Heaven in a Wildflower
by AragothwinElfBlade
Summary: Post Day 5. You don't know what you have 'til it's gone. JC DeathFic!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a deathfic! I mean it! Jackmuse is being such a jerk (stupid TPTB), I had to remind him where he really stood.

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His appetite had vanished with his will to live. Bill forced him to chew and swallow every morning at work. It was just enough to keep him functional. The apathy of grief only intensified under the self-imposed fast. Most of his off-time was spent between the cool blue sheets of bed that wasn't his. 

When he was up and about, he did his level best to keep the house. A sense of order was maintained. Laundry was done, folded, and stored in drawers next to the clothes of the small apartment's owner. What few sets of dishes and silverware there were had been kept clean. There were no experiments growing in the fridge or freezer. At least, none that weren't supposed to be there.

Sorting through the computer equipment that was found on almost ever surface of the house was a minor nightmare for the IT impaired man. But he toiled through the task of boxing and storing it in the closet none the less. After that was done, he'd taken up home repairs to pass the empty hours. Within a month the apartment was in better shape than when it had been bought. Desperate to find something to occupy himself, he'd gone through the bookshelves.

Surprisingly, there were several volumes filled with recipes and cooking tips. Comments and warnings had been printed on the margin in the neat, familiar hand. He couldn't help but laugh at some of them. 'Note to self: This recipe has a high probability of exploding during bake time due to steam pressure from jam filling. Mix filling with batter for less messy results.' 'Note to self: DO NOT LEAVE TOWL IN OVEN. It is combustible.'

So, he took up cooking, baking, and other forms of culinary preparation. The single mother across the hall and the elderly couple next door appreciated his daily deliveries of baked goods, or whatever else he had been working on. Bill hoped that this new hobby would lead him to eat but was disappointed.

Six months later, the only outward sign anything was different was the various snacks that showed up in the break room with disturbing consistency, that and the sunken appearance of his eyes and cheeks. Dark bags attesting to nights of sleep without true rest became part of his appearance, as did the baggy fit of his always dark clothing.

Less well known was the all out brawl that occurred between him and the woman he thought he loved. She wasn't happy about his new routines, and expressed her discontent vocally and often. This had gone on until she crossed the line during one of her tirades. If Bill hadn't grabbed him it was more than likely the woman would have ended up on the floor, hurting badly if not dead. He had ended it between them right there, in front Bill, God, and everyone within hearing distance.

In response, Bill brought Chase back in. Perhaps the older man meant to provide some sort of cold comfort.

It did help some. The young agent could make him laugh with enough effort. And when there wasn't any laughing to be had, Chase gave him the silence he needed. Offering no comment on the hidden tears shed understanding and empathizing with them.

His positive response to the change made Bill think he was improving. Only he and Chase knew otherwise. The aching never really went away, but the younger agent made it less cutting. Despite the small respite, it was only a matter of time before it was too much.

Everyone has their breaking point. He knew better than most. He'd used it to his advantage many times. He also knew that he was reaching his.

One cool fall day it was finished. No one had noticed anything different at work. He'd shut down his station, and stuck his head inside Bill's office to say he was going for visit before he went home. The older man never suspected this visit was any different than the ones he had been making several times a week for the last year.

Only Chase had known something was amiss. The younger man was leaning against the car waiting for him, arms across the chest. The two men faced each other in the cold cement garage. Bars of sunlight fell in bright streams through the gaps in the columns. One pool gilded Chase in a golden aura. Another highlighted just how pale and wornthe otherreally was.

Their exchange was wordless and ended with Chase backing down head bowed. A wane smile twisted his lips. In an uncharacteristic move, he wrapped the younger man in a tight hug. Chase hugged back, tears gathering as the agent felt just how frail grief had made his friend. Pulling away, the younger dropped a timid kiss on the side of his elder's mouth. The brush of chapped lips against skin and stubblewas soft. A final tribute to the man who was closer than a brother.

With a final nod, he left Chase standing alone in the garage. On the younger man's shoulder now rested the weight his partner had borne for years. The absence of the burden made him feel lighter and younger than even before the last year.

There was an extra spring to his step as he strode up the tree lined lane. His hands were tucked into his pockets because of the slight chill in the air. The people he passed looked at him oddly as he gave them a bright smile.

His sojourn ended at the pedestal of a white marble angel. The smile on his lips never flattered as he paused a moment to take in the beauty of the small clearing and its elegant inhabitant. Dampness seeped through the denim of his pants as he sat on the wet earth at the statue's base. The sound bird song and his own breathing filled his ears to make a sort of white noise that drowned out the dull crack.

Liquid seeped from his mouth to trickle down his chin. But he was too tired to wipe it away. Just as he was too tired to wonder about the cold burning in his chest. Sleep eased over him heralded by the voice he missed so badly.


	2. Epilouge

Author's Note: This is the epilouge. Should I keep it, yay or nay?

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Bill stood in the forested clearing. It was really a rather pretty place. To bad it was being put to such a somber use. His eyes picked out Curtis and Kim from the small gathering of people. A glint of sunlight of red drew his eyes to Aaron Pierce and Martha Logan. Audrey hadn't come, and the rest were other CTU personnel who'd worked with Jack and Chloe.

Clearing his throat, Bill began the simple speech he'd written the night before. According to Jack's wishes there had been no religious rites or military funeral. Just a request to keep it simple and quiet, and to ensure he was buried next to his soul mate.

"We're here today because Jack Bauer let go after holding on so hard. I won't condone his actions with pretty words, but I will say I understand why he did what he did. Even if I don't agree with it."

That was easy enough. A burning sensation rose in his throat and nose. "Jack was about as far from a saint as you can be, and still be a good man. He did his job, and he did it well. No matter what the cost was to himself. That cost killed him eventually. When he lost Chloe, we all watched his descent into hell. I know now, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop it."

Apause. He stared out at the others. Kim's chin was held up and her cheeks were pale but dry. Her hand was in Curtis's. Martha was leaning against Aaron, who had one arm around his principle. Now, Bill was able to pick out a figure that he hadn't noticed before. As the older man watched, Chase shifted in the shadowed woods. A watery beam of light glittered off the tear tracks on the youngagent's face.

"I guess there's nothing else to say here. Jack left friends and family hurting. I can only pray he's found peace. And Chloe's taking care of him for us. I won't forget him, and that's all that really matters." Bill hung his head as much as a former marine could. "They'll both be missed." Inexplicable exhaustion had settled over him and his hands shook as he moved away from the fresh grave. A root caught his foot and he stumbled forward.

Warm hands wrapped themselves firmly around his arm. He looked to see Karen Hayes, dressedconservatively in black,steadying him. With a sad smile, she linked their arms and supported him as they walked down the shade-dappledpath together.

As if Bill's departure had been some sort of signal, the other mourners drifted away into the crisp, clear fall morning. Aaron ,with Martha on his arm, paused long enough to salute the figure of St. Joan that guarded the resting place of two of the bravest people he'd ever had the honor of knowing.

Herded gently by Curtis, Kim left the clearing with her head held high. She was the last to go, leaving Chase the solitary spectator.

Within the privacy, he stepped into the light that filtered through the gold and redcanopy. Wiping his face with the back of hands, he sniffed and took a deep breath. The tears continued to trickle down his expressionless face. Guarded eyes read the engraving on the plaque that was the onlyornamentation on the base of the statue.

CHLOE O'BRIAN

SEPTEMBER 17, 2009

A HERO

JACK BAUER

SEPTEMBER 17, 2010

HER HERO

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Okay, O'Brian is an Irish name so I'm making Chloe Catholic. Hence, St. Joan, patron saint of soldiers and woman in tough positions. Second, I know it's cliche, but everyone's allowed one of those. If you're going to flame, make toast with it. It'll be more useful that way because I'll just delete it.


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